


All In

by annejumps



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom!Eames, Community: kink_bingo, Fingerfucking, Fingering, Fisting, M/M, Rimming, Stretching, top!arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Eames. I’ve had it done to me. I know how it works. Besides, I won’t push you. I don’t want you to hurt. I want it to be good for you.” Arthur kissed him and sat up. “Like it was for me. Only better.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) Round 5 for the square _fisting/stretching_. Beta'd by [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/pseuds/anatsuno).

“I bet I could fit my hand in there,” Arthur said speculatively.

Eames was naked on his stomach on Arthur’s bed, enjoying a post-coital cigarette and trying to keep himself from dozing off. At first, he thought he hadn’t heard correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

Arthur, having finished cleaning the both of them with a wet flannel, ran his hand down Eames’ back, to the small of it and then over the curve of his ass, resting it lightly there.

“Have you done that before?”

“It’s been ages since I’ve tried. And Arthur, your hands are not small.” Eames raised his head, and turned to squint at Arthur, before taking a drag. Arthur took his cigarette as Eames exhaled, feeling a flush on his skin. He didn’t suppose he could chalk that up entirely to the sex they’d just finished having.

“I’ve done it before,” Arthur went on, and inhaled. “Receiving. It was... interesting. I’d like to try giving.”

“I’m sure I’ve no idea why you’re telling me these things.”

“You’d like it if it was me,” Arthur asserted.

“You seem awfully confident of that.”

“I am. I’m usually pretty good at knowing what you’d like. The nipple clamps, the blindfold, the ice--”

“All right, all right. Point taken.”

“So you’ll take it?”

“The point or your hand?”

“Well, both, ideally.”

After a long pause, Eames sighed, fond, unable to keep from smiling, possibly because he was still in the glow of orgasm. “All right, Arthur.”

Arthur kissed him, tasting of the cigarette. When he pulled back, he was smiling broadly, looking rather smugly pleased.

Eames wondered what he had gotten himself into, but wasn’t especially worried. It was Arthur, after all.

They agreed they were too tired and there was too much prep involved to get up to that sort of thing tonight; they’d save it for the next evening.

Throughout the day, as the team went over plans and debated, Eames found himself watching Arthur, particularly his hands. That was nothing new, but this time, Arthur caught him at it more than once, and smirked, and found excuses to play up his hands in relatively discreet ways only Eames would notice. Really, he was insufferable, and by the time the day was winding down Eames was considering shoving him into a side room just to kiss the smugness off his face.

Arthur had a spring in his step as they walked together back to Arthur’s flat. “You’re entirely too keen on this,” Eames said.

“Nervous?”

“Nonsense,” Eames scoffed. Arthur just smiled and put his hands in his pockets in that ridiculous runway model habit of his.

They were alone in the elevator. “We’ll take our time,” Arthur said. “We’re going to do this right.” Eames just nodded. “So I bought you an enema kit when I went out for lunch,” Arthur continued, and kept talking over Eames’ startled coughs. “And I’ve got gloves, and... a _lot_ of lube. The checkout girl at the drugstore couldn’t look me in the eye. It was great.”

Certainly Arthur’s shoulder bag looked fuller than usual. But of course Arthur would be prepared. Still, Eames groaned quietly to himself as he followed him down the hall to his flat.

Enemas were not unfamiliar to Eames, and he got that whole business over with as quickly as possible. Arthur wanted to give Eames plenty of time, and so he sat reading over his notes on his laptop as Eames got himself ready and then made tea. Eames felt ridiculously demure for someone who was soon to have a hand in his arse, and the less he had to acknowledge these necessities, the better. But the tea helped; Arthur had his favorite kind. And luckily, Arthur was honestly engrossed in his reading.

Eames, in his underpants, relaxed on the couch as he sipped, and watched a Marlene Dietrich movie that happened to be on. Eventually, Arthur joined him, and Eames kissed his cheek. Arthur turned to kiss him properly on the mouth and gently tilted him back into the couch. They managed to keep the tea from spilling.

Snogging Arthur was the only thing that could successfully distract Eames from Marlene and fisting-related anxieties, and they were so caught up that Eames, his hand down Arthur’s pants, was startled to find the movie was over. Arthur started biting at his nipples, and he was distracted again.

Eames was hard and starting to rub against Arthur’s thigh when Arthur abruptly stood, with a smile, and held out a hand to lead him back to the bedroom.

Once there, Arthur quickly stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, as Eames laid on the bed and watched him, silent. Without a word, Arthur climbed onto the bed, bridged himself over Eames, and kissed him, smiling, until Eames was once again hard and restless, his fingers curling in the soft cotton of Arthur’s shirt. Arthur palmed him through his underpants and Eames gasped, and Arthur pulled back, smiling again, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Get on with it, then,” Eames said, breathless.

“This is going to feel so good,” Arthur murmured. “You’ll love it.”

Eames swallowed. “I told you, I tried it ages ago.”

“And you didn’t like it?” Arthur stroked his fingers down Eames’ chest, soothing.

“He didn’t know what he was doing. It... hurt a bit.”

“Well, I know what I’m doing.”

“You haven’t done it before.”

“Eames. I’ve had it done to me. I know how it works. Besides, I won’t push you. I don’t want you to hurt. I want it to be good for you.” Arthur kissed him and sat up. “Like it was for me. Only better.”

“Full disclosure,” Arthur added, stroking Eames’ knee, “it’s not usual to take the entire hand on the first try, or the fist. It took me weeks to build up to it. If you just want to be stretched tonight, that’s fine, I’ll just stretch you.”

“All right, darling.”

“I can eat you out and fuck you first, warm you up,” Arthur continued, and God, Eames never tired of hearing Arthur talk like this.

“If you would, please,” he said, rather faintly, smiling. “Take this off first, though,” he added, tugging at Arthur’s shirt. Arthur peeled it off and leaned in to kiss him soundly, and then kissed down his chest, before pulling off Eames’ underpants.

He licked long, slow stripes up Eames’ cock, laved his balls, nibbled at the creases of his thighs until Eames was spreading himself, offering himself up, hands hooked behind his knees.

Arthur’s hands went to the backs of his thighs, gently holding him in place as he lapped behind his balls, tongued his perineum. Arthur was good at this because he was so unhesitating, so thorough. If you were only going to be perfunctory about it, why do it at all, Eames thought, remembering some people he’d slept with in the past, at least until Arthur pulled him entirely to the present by starting to lick at his hole. He gasped, reaching for Arthur’s hair, and Arthur chuckled.

Arthur had a lovely pointy tongue, and he probed and stroked with it as if he had all the time in the world. He slid it in and out in a rhythm that had Eames panting and just barely keeping himself from babbling nonsense, and then he stopped, raising his head and smiling, hair mussed and cheeks pink. Smug was a good look on Arthur.

Eames stifled a sound of dismay as Arthur stood. He got a bottle of lube and threw it to Eames, who’d lowered his legs and managed to catch the bottle, just barely. “I’ll be right back,” Arthur said. “I got you pretty wet but it’s definitely not going to be enough.” He winked, and Eames stuck his tongue out at him.

Eames uncapped the bottle, slicked up his fingers, and started on himself as Arthur brushed his teeth and used some mouthwash. He closed his eyes, laying back and thinking about Arthur’s fingers as his own gently stretched himself. The bed shifted as Arthur got back onto it, and Eames opened his eyes to a naked Arthur, minty-fresh and still pleased with himself.

Arthur took some lube on his fingers; pulling Eames’ leg over his shoulder, he knelt and pressed one finger in alongside one of Eames’. “Good start,” he observed, matching Eames’ rhythm as Eames gnawed on his lip.

“I’ll take over now,” he added, and Eames slipped his fingers out, wiping them on his stomach. Arthur worked into him, steady and methodical, with two long fingers. “I’m thinking I’ll fuck you,” Arthur mused, “bare, and I’ll come, but you should wait.”

“And why do you get to come?” Eames mock-groused, breathless.

“I like the thought of coming inside you and then stretching you,” Arthur replied, frank. “And I want you to wait to come because otherwise you’ll be too sensitive.”

“Mm.” Eames couldn’t really argue that point.

“It’s possible to come from this,” Arthur went on. “The prostate stimulation, if there is any, or just the intensity of the feeling. If you can’t come that way this time, that’s fine, I’ll suck you off.”

Eames swallowed, and nodded. “Carry on, then.”

“Carry on doing this, or do you want me to fuck you now?”

“It’s just a saying, darling, but perhaps you ought to go ahead and fuck me.”

Arthur slipped his fingers free and slicked himself up with rather more lube than usual. He pressed the head of his cock to Eames and sank into him, slow and sure. Eames smoothed his hands down Arthur’s shoulders and back, fitting his legs to frame Arthur’s narrow hips. Arthur smiled, and kissed him. They took their time.

Eames was a bit soft; Arthur seemingly had been hard since they’d got here, so it wasn’t surprising when Arthur’s steady rhythm got faster, and he started to sigh on every breath. Eames drew back and cupped his cheek. “Come on, then, love,” he whispered, surprised at how raspy he sounded.

He moved with Arthur, watched his face, the way his lips parted around his breaths, the way his lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes tightly when he came. He let himself drop gently onto Eames with a shudder, flushed and hot, and Eames stroked gentle patterns over his skin, letting him catch his breath.

Soon enough, Arthur was raising himself up and withdrawing with a little groan. “You good?” he asked. Eames nodded, and felt his heart kick into a faster beat. Arthur must have caught his little inhalation, because he said, eyebrows raised in concern, “We don’t have to continue, it’s fine.”

“No, no, I want to,” Eames said, earnest.

“Okay. Tell me if you need me to stop, whenever.” Arthur stood, and Eames settled back into bed.

Arthur cleaned himself up, put his boxers back on, and got everything together, working quickly. Although the sheets were already a bit of a mess, he put down a towel; Eames lifted his hips obligingly for it.

Arthur opened the box of gloves; as he put one on, Eames joked, “I feel rather lazy, just lying here.” He was chagrined at how breathless he sounded.

“That’s all you have to do, just lie there,” Arthur said. He was slicking up his gloved hand, concentrating on a liberal coverage. Eames took a sudden deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Hey,” Arthur said, quiet. “You ready?”

Opening his eyes, Eames nodded. “But Arthur, wait a moment.” Arthur paused.

Eames cleared his throat. “You don’t have to use the glove, do you?”

Arthur tilted his head, considering. “No, not technically.”

“Then could you not? I’d rather you didn’t. I just want to feel your skin, I don’t want to feel as though I’m in a hospital room.” Eames chuckled quietly.

“All right. Understandable.” Nodding, Arthur shed the glove, turning it inside out to keep the slick contained. Once he’d set it aside, he resumed getting his fingers good and wet. Eames just watched, staring at his hands. In truth, he was a bit mesmerized.

“Eames?” When he looked up, Arthur was grinning knowingly.

Eames couldn’t help smiling in return. “Are you finally ready, then?”

“When you are.”

“All yours, pet. Have at it.”

Arthur cleared his throat in an attempt not to laugh. “Okay, just stay on your back like that. At the beginning this’ll just be like any other prep.” Eames drew his legs up again, hands cupping his knees, and felt Arthur’s fingers dipping inside, first one, then two. Nothing unusual. At the third finger, he tensed a bit, and Arthur paused.

“Sorry,” Eames said.

“No, don’t be sorry.”

Arthur went back to being as quiet as he was patient, and Eames finally asked him if he could perhaps talk a bit, for purposes of distraction. Arthur frowned in thought and then began telling him about two upcoming possible jobs, one of which involved a fashion designer. In the middle of a mild argument over whether cordovan was brown or burgundy (clearly it was burgundy), Arthur paused to ask whether he could put in a fourth finger, and Eames said yes before returning to explaining why Arthur was wrong.

Arthur dribbled more slick onto his hand and then stayed like that, four fingers inside Eames, moving them in and out slowly and gently. All opinions on cordovan forgotten for now, Eames trailed off, closing his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Arthur murmured, amused. “How does this feel?”

Eames considered. “Very full.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt. It just feels odd. A good odd.”

“Okay, well, how do you feel about me adding my thumb? I won’t go past the knuckles yet, or at all, I’ll just add my thumb.” Arthur’s expression was serene but for a slight raise of his brow.

“Please do.”

Arthur pulled his fingers out a bit, moved them about to wedge his thumb in, and slowly slid back in. This was a good bit thicker, and Eames took a deep breath. Arthur went still, letting him adjust.

“Jesus fuck, that feels so full,” Eames muttered, half to himself, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Good?”

“Yes, good.” He was getting hard again, actually. He wrapped a hand loosely around his cock. “Can you go a bit deeper?”

Arthur nodded. “I’ll go really slowly, you tell me when to stop.”

Arthur’s progress was glacial, and the fullness was almost unbearable, in a thrilling way. Eames was restless, biting his lip, conscious of Arthur watching his face. Arthur’s cheeks were pink and he looked fascinated. Eames never objected to being an object of admiration for Arthur, and he gave his cock a squeeze.

“There. Arthur, can I--” Eames cut himself off with a groan, closing his eyes and arching his back just slightly.

“Yeah, of course.” He heard Arthur’s swallow. “You want me to help?”

The thought of Arthur’s fingers inside him as well as stroking him off was tremendously appealing. “Please.”

“I like it when you say please,” Arthur teased, but his voice was rough.

Eames opened his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

He released his cock and went back to holding his knees. Arthur’s other hand happened to be quite slick, and Eames groaned as it wrapped around him, grip firm. “Could you-- a little deeper,” he said, and Arthur obliged, ever so slowly. “Fuck,” Eames breathed. Arthur gave him a long stroke and he shuddered. Arthur did it again, and again.

“Jesus, Eames, you have no idea how hot this is,” he breathed.

“I rather think I do,” Eames panted, moving his hips in time with Arthur’s strokes. “Just-- just keep doing that, please.”

Arthur knew just the firmness and speed Eames liked best; Eames watched Arthur’s hand on his cock, and couldn’t hold back a little gasp. He fucked himself on Arthur’s hand, fucked Arthur’s grip; Arthur’s come was inside him. Arthur.

“Arthur,” he breathed.

“Eames,” Arthur replied, voice low. “You’re taking me to my knuckles.” Arthur shifted forward, watching him, intent, eyes gone darker. His grip didn’t let up. “You’re gorgeous. Let me see you come.”

Eames arched his back, one hand going to grip the top of Arthur’s headboard, the other going to touch Arthur’s hand on his cock as he started to come. He was unable to keep his eyes open, unable to keep ridiculous groans from spilling out of his throat.

After that, things were a bit of a blur.

He was aware of little quivers running through his body, and the careful, slow way Arthur removed his hand. His eyes closed and his hands limp on the bedclothes, he was aware of Arthur lowering his legs, dropping kisses to his knees. The mattress shifted as Arthur got up; he was back shortly with cool, wet flannels. As he cleaned Eames, he quietly expounded upon how lovely and impressive he’d been.

He also brought a glass of water, and he told Eames to drink it and then they could nap, if Eames liked. Eames, in a delightful haze of endorphins, got himself upright long enough to have a drink and put on his underpants, and then he stretched out with a sigh. Arthur curled up behind him, long legs pressed close up behind his own, and kissed him behind his ear.

“I’ve gone all muzzy,” Eames whispered, amused, and Arthur put an arm over him, chuckling softly. Eames looked at his hand, smiled, and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [anatsuno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anatsuno/), [Amy,](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asunder) Liz, and Julia for all your help!


End file.
